


So?

by finnemoreshusband



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Skipthur, possibly pre-slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnemoreshusband/pseuds/finnemoreshusband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin's not having a very good day and Arthur tries to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So?

**Author's Note:**

> For nixthejester on tumblr as part of a giveaway. This is long overdue and I'm sorry it's taken me so long but I hope you enjoy.
> 
> The prompt was "Arthur shows Martin a little bit of love to cheer him up after a badly lost word game with Douglas".

Arthur entered the pointy end, coffee in hand, and was surprised at how quiet it was.

He handed a cup each to Martin and Douglas, the muttered thank-yous only temporarily breaking the silence.

“No games today, chaps?”

There was silence as he and Douglas looked toward Martin, who said nothing.

“Martin's a sore loser today,” said Douglas.

“I am not,” Martin protested. “I'm just... I had a bad night and then, of course, I lost every game we played and, and I know it's not your _fault_ that I... well. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking my frustrations out on you.”

Douglas smiled a bit, glad that Martin wasn't really angry with him. “You're forgiven.”

Martin rolled his eyes.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Arthur asked. “I hate to see you having a bad day, Skip.”

“No, it's fine. I just need to not think about it. I'll be fine.”

Arthur put his hand on his chin, thinking. “But that might only make it worse. Because then you'll just think about it more later.”

“I think,” Douglas paused, “that Arthur may be right, Martin. Maybe talking about whatever caused you to have a bad night would help relieve some of the tension. You don't have to, of course. But you could. If you wanted.”

Martin gave him a glance, debating. Then he turned around and saw the expectant look on Arthur's face. He knew that no matter how much he was teased (or how often he teased them), these men were his friends. And if he didn't want to talk about it, they wouldn't press him. But. He did kind of want to tell someone about it.

He took a breath. “I... I went out last night. I didn't have any van jobs, and I had a bit of spare money so I just wanted to go out and... not be cooped up inside that stuffy attic, basically. And... I met someone. I'd only wanted to get out for an hour or so but we really hit it off and so I went home with him. I don't usually do that; I'm so nervous all the time that people usually lose interest. But he seemed genuinely interested and so I let him take me back to his place and we were getting ready to, erm, you know. And all of a sudden he just decided it was off. He apologised and offered to pay for a cab and everything but I still left feeling like... I don't know, like I did something wrong or... something.”

When he finished, he realised he'd been speaking a bit too quickly, and wondered if they'd even understood a word of what he'd said.

Douglas just shrugged. “It's his loss.” Martin blushed, about to say something when Douglas continued. “Obviously I don't know from experience, but it's easy enough to assume what you'd be like considering your determined nature and how much strength you would require for your van jobs--”

“Yes, alright, thank you,” Martin interrupted

“Plus,” Arthur added, “you know what they say about red-heads.”

The two pilots looked at him, the captain's blush deepening.

Arthur saw their stares and felt compelled to explain himself. “I mean, I know all those things aren't necessarily true, but, still... people do say that--”

“Yes, Arthur, I know what people say about red-heads,” Martin said before Arthur could go any further. “Look, I know you two are just trying to help but, really, now that it's off my chest I do feel better. Honestly. So thank you, but now I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Not unusually, the three men were forced to share a room together. It had become the standard arrangement; Martin and Douglas would each get a bed to themselves, and Arthur would sleep on the floor between them.

To be honest, the two felt a bit bad at expecting Arthur to take the floor when they each got beds (low quality aside) to sleep on. But Arthur was a man of simple pleasures, so they accepted it knowing he was genuinely happy down there.

While Douglas was getting a shower, Arthur saw it as an opportunity.

“Martin?”

Knowing Arthur didn't use his given name very often, Martin ceased digging through his luggage and turned to face him. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no,” Arthur promised. “I mean, I was going to ask you that. You seemed really quiet during the flight today. And even once you did start playing with Douglas again you didn't really... you weren't as competitive as you usually are. I was just wondering if... if there was something else bothering you?”

“Oh...” Martin looked down, scratching at his elbow.

“There might not be, I know. But if there's something, something you didn't want to say in front of Douglas, I can always listen.”

Martin let himself wear a small smile. “I know.”

There were a few seconds of silence, just the two men staring at each other, until Martin continued.

“I'm not a sore loser. But sometimes... Well Douglas _wins_ everything. He's _better_ at everything than I am. And I don't hold it against him, he's my friend and I know he doesn't do it on purpose and I don't blame him but sometimes I feel so... inadequate. Around him, you know? And this evening when we were flying I couldn't even get any of the answers to our quiz game and I know it's stupid but I just--” Martin stopped, unsure exactly how to express what he felt.

Arthur just nodded. “Can I hug you?”

“What?” Martin's eyes went wide.

“It doesn't work for everyone, but some people, a hug really makes them feel better. And I'm a brilliant hugger. So?”

Martin didn't answer so much as stretch his arms out, waiting to receive a hug.

Arthur moved forward and filled the slot Martin had created, wrapping his arms gently around the Captain's shoulders. Martin responded by resting his hands against Arthur's back, and his head against Arthur's chest.

“You know I think you're amazing, right, Skip? Because I do. It may not mean a lot coming from me but... I know it might not feel good to never win, but you don't need to beet Douglas at games to prove you're worth something. You're important to him and if he knew it upset you for real he'd stop. Or at least try to come up with games you'd be good at, or maybe games you'd both be really bad at so it'd just be to get a laugh out of each other.”

Martin giggled at that, and at the thought of Douglas being bad at something. He pulled out of the hug, hanging his arms back at his sides. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“Was it a good hug?”

“One of the best.”

“I told you.”


End file.
